


Brilliant Disguise

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Cowboys and Airmen, Lost Decade, M/M, Sexual Content, goading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: An unexpected meeting at the Wild Pony during the Lost Decade puts both Alex and Michael on the defensive. Can they move past their mutual distaste regarding each other’s new looks and life paths?
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 23
Kudos: 113





	Brilliant Disguise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lori Lane (LoriLane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoriLane/gifts).



> This was inspired by a gifset by manesalex and the subsequent conversation it spurred with Lori Lane (LoriLane). Specifically, we were reflecting on how much Michael and Alex’s styles have changed between the ages of 17 and 28, and why. I also took some inspiration from thepredatorywasp’s recent post about Michael’s “bad boy” persona. And out of all that, this fic was born. Enjoy!

The thing about small towns is that everyone knows everyone. 

It’s been extra annoying these last few years. There have been nights, late ones, where he’s wanted a drink so damn bad. Somewhere close and easy. But Mimi knows exactly how old he is, knows he was the same grade as Maria. Won’t serve him. He chances it at Saturn’s Rings sometimes, with his fake ID, and once with a reckless-feeling Isobel when she was picking a fight with Max, but then Saturn’s got busted for serving Juliette Cleburne underage and lost its liquor license for almost a month, and it’s been a damn tight ship since then

But now, oh now he’s 21. Legal. And there’s nothing stopping him, aside from Max on the occasional officially sanctioned power trip.

And he gets so much ass.

So much. Like, it’s ridiculous. People are bored as fuck in this town, and he’s fresh meat, ready and willing.

He’s at the Pony tonight, on the prowl. Janet, a regular, is flirting with him. She’s older than him, old enough to be his... well. She’s probably in her 40s. 

“You ever take this off, honey?” she asks with a grin, fingering the brim of his hat.

He laughs, easy. “Well maybe you buy me a drink or two and we’ll find out.”

She arches an eyebrow, pleased. “Shot of Jack, Mimi,” she calls. Michael has to avert his eyes, then, away from the look Mimi is giving them.

And it’s in that moment, when he’s trying to look anywhere but behind the bar, that he sees him. Near the side door, laughing with Maria. Beer in hand. And fuck, how had he missed him? What is he doing here? Did... did he see Michael and Janet?

He can’t stop looking. He looks good, because of course he does. Tan and fit, with a, god damn it, with a fucking Air Force t-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders and torso. DeLuca, bless her, is looking down at it on occasion, shaking her head. Michael tenses, then, as he sees Wyatt Long approach Alex. He remembers Wyatt’s special brand of asshattery from high school, remembers the slurs he’d hurled Alex’s way. 

Michael ignores his shot of Jack, ignores Janet as he pushes his way through the bar crowd and watches, astounded, as Wyatt crowds in close to Alex, points to his shirt, and extends a hand. To Michael’s practiced eye, Alex looks a little tense, but he doubts anyone else even sees it, even DeLuca. Alex gives a little smirk and shoves out his hand, grasps Wyatt’s confidently, and shakes. “Thanks,” he sees him mouth, and now he has to talk to him, let him know that he’s here.

“Didn’t realize you were back in town, Maverick.”

Maria laughs a bit at that, while Alex tenses at the familiar voice. 

“What do you say, Alex? You a Maverick?” Maria asks, teasing.

Alex is about to answer when Maria’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, is that Luke Curtis walking in now?”

Michael turns to look. “I think so.”

Maria shakes her head a bit. “His ass is banned.” She turns to Alex, apologetic. “Look I’m sorry. I’ve got to deal with this. Whatever you do, don’t let Guerin challenge you to pool.”

Alex gives a tight smile. “Noted. Good luck.”

Maria’s already walking away, giving him a thumbs up as she goes. Alex watches her for a moment, then sighs. “Guerin,” he says.

Michael’s suddenly feeling unsure. “You didn’t text,” he blurts.

Alex’s eyes close, briefly. “No, I... I didn’t.” Michael looks at him expectantly. “After the way we left things last time, I didn’t know if, if it would be welcome.”

Shit. 

There’d been words. Heated ones. Michael had stormed out hours earlier than anticipated, still half-hard, jeans barely zipped.

“Yet you’re here,” Michael says. “At the Pony.”

“To see Maria,” Alex grits out. “And anyway, you looked pretty occupied over at the bar.”

Michael nods a little, to himself. “Well, when a lady asks about a man’s hat, it’s bad manners to just leave her hanging.”

“From what Maria tells me, you don’t leave many ladies hanging, do you?”

Michael’s eyes narrow at that, and he almost, almost thinks he sees a glint of regret in Alex’s eyes. Well. Let him squirm, then.

Michael licks his lips a little, leans in close to him. “I sure don’t, darlin’.”

Alex sucks in a breath at that, flinches back. Looks Michael up and down, then, bolder than he should, probably, given that they’re in public. Seems to linger on the hat, then the buckle... or maybe he’s just staring at his dick.

“You get off on this?” Alex asks suddenly. “This whole bad boy, cowboy thing?”

“Other people do,” Michael’s sure to say quickly, confidently. “That’s what’s important.”

“Is it?”

“Works for me,” Michael says, gesturing up and down his body, hat to boots.

“Since when?”

Michael frowns at that, steps in close again. “Since not too long after you hup-two’ed the hell out of here. Cowboy not your style, Manes? Cause I’ve... I’ve actually had people try to pay for this shit.” He watches as he gets the desired reaction, sees Alex’s stricken face and the way he nearly drops his beer bottle. Good. Two can play at this goddamn game. “Homeless orphan more your jam? Kinda fucked up, but, hey, whatever floats your boat.” Michael gives him a tight smile. “Oops, my bad, you’re Air Force,” he says with a fake little shake of the head. “Your jet?

Alex is glaring at him now. “Dammit, Guerin.”

“Cause I mean, I could throw on a hoodie, ditch the hat, belt, and boots, and it’d be just like old times.”

Alex blows out a shaky breath, then a steadier one. His eyes flick to Michael’s hand. His left hand. “Not, not just like.”

The reminder, the acknowledgment, it takes some of the wind out of Michael’s sails. “Yeah, well, you’ve changed too,” he mutters, quieter now. “This whole G.I. Joe shit you’ve got going...” He cocks an eyebrow. “Sir, yes sir,” he says suggestively. “The boys like that? A man in uniform?”

Alex tilts his head to the side, narrows his eyes. “They like it too publicly, and that man in uniform gets a dishonorable discharge, Guerin. You fucking know that. That’s the entire reason we...” Alex shakes his head. “Fuck, forget it. I’m gonna hit the head.”

Michael watches him stride away, a little too fast. He, he should just go. Leave. He thinks Janet’s probably a no-go now, and he’s not even in the mood at this point. How did it go so sour, so fast with Alex? And, and why does he always have to push it?

Before he knows it, he’s going down the hall to the restrooms too, about to open the door to the men’s room just as Alex pushes out. 

The door hits him square on the hand, his left one, absorbing most of the force.

“Shit!” Alex exclaims. “Guerin!” He’s wide-eyed, peering at Michael, putting hands on him. “Guerin, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael mutters, more embarrassed than anything. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He looks up, and Alex is just standing there, still looking concerned. And that gives him the courage he needs.

“You, you asked about the cowboy shit.”

Alex’s shoulders slump. “Guerin, it’s okay, you don’t have to - “

“I started working out at Foster Ranch. Last fall. Before it got too cold. Didn’t want to, didn’t want to do another winter out of the truck. I helped out in exchange for a place to stay, above the stables. Two meals a day.”

Alex is quiet now, just looking at him. They pause as another guy pushes past them into the bathrooms.

“Other guys there were, were kind of rough. I stuck out, bad... scrawny kid with a busted hand.” Michael swallows thickly, not sure where this impulse is coming from, to share all this with Alex. “I think, think old man Foster took pity on me. Gave me some of his son’s old shit. Belt, buckle. A coat. Just sort of collected the rest of this stuff over time,” he explains, gesturing to each item as he talks. “I know, know it’s different from how it used to be. But it’s practical. And I,” he hesitates, “I blend in. It’s easier that way.”

“Nothing about you blends in,” Alex breathes. “Not to me.” He seems startled at his own sudden admission, and looks around, as if to see if anyone could have heard. Satisfied, he leans in, lowers his voice. “Saw you soon as I walked in the Pony. Even, even with the hat.”

Michael’s feeling uncertain, vulnerable. “Is it,” he points up to the hat, “it that bad to you? Cause, cause if it is, for you, Alex, anything, I’d do anything you - “

Alex lets out a brief, strained chuckle. “You... shit. You look good, Michael.” He looks around again, then down at Michael. At his body. “You look so good to me. I, I don’t wanna fight. Just wanna, god, want you so bad.”

“Fuck,” Michael groans, clenching his fist to keep from touching Alex in public like this, grinding him up against the wall. 

“But, but I can’t stay. You know I can’t.” Alex sounds helpless, now, as if he’s begging Michael to understand.

And Michael... Michael doesn’t think he’ll ever understand. Ever, ever understand how someone like Alex could have signed his damn life away to the military.

But here they are.

“I know,” Michael says quietly. “How long you in town?”

Alex is staring at him now, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “I’ve got three days left.”

He shouldn’t do this to himself. It always ends the same when he’s with Alex - unspeakable pain, a raw, reopened wound. But, god, the time they do have...

He closes his eyes, squares his shoulders, then looks up, right at Alex. “Let’s make them worth it.”

Alex moves first, purposefully, straight out the front door of the Pony. Doesn’t even stop at the bar, to pay. Was his beer on the house, Michael wonders, feeling dazed. Alex doesn’t stop till they’re half-hidden between two enormous pick-ups in the parking lot.

“Maria drove me. I don’t have a car here.”

Michael inclines his head in the direction of his truck. “We’ll take mine.” In that moment, he wishes, wishes he had a place, somewhere that was just his, somewhere he didn’t share with a bunch of animals and four other ranch hands. “There are other guys, at the ranch. It’s not, not private.” Not safe.

Alex isn’t even fazed. “We‘ll do the Rodeway Inn again. It’s cheap, off the main drag. Dad’s never...” He swallows. “No onewould look for us there.”

They both climb into Michael’s truck, and Michael doesn’t miss the way Alex nervously looks around as he fires up the ignition and throws it into reverse. One of these days maybe he’ll ask him about it. Why it’s so, so hard for him, the idea of being seen with Michael. Is it his dad? The military? 

Or is it just Michael?

Roswell’s not a big place, and Michael doesn’t need to devote much brain power to getting them to the Rodeway... which is good, because he doesn’t have much available bandwidth at the moment, not with most of his attention solely focused on Alex, his presence right here next to him, unexpected but so damn welcome. Feeling bold, he reaches over, grasps Alex’s hand. Hard. Relishes the feel of it as Alex squeezes back.

It’s like there’s an electric charge in the air between them, and neither one of them dares escalate things, not here in the truck. There, there will be time for that.

Michael pulls into the parking lot at the Rodeway. It’s nearly deserted, which seems to put Alex at ease, at least a little. Michael makes no move to leave the truck, because Alex has to know, right? Know that Michael can’t afford this, not even this, this shithole of a place...

Alex squeezes his hand, opens the door. “I’ll get us a room,” he assures Michael, reluctantly letting go of his hand.

Michael watches as Alex exchanges words with the clerk, accepts the key slid his way. Alex stops in front of room 108, looks Michael’s direction before entering. With a deep breath, Michael exits the truck, locks up, and walks straight into the room.

Alex is right there, filling his space, his senses. Hungry for Michael. 

And Michael, Michael wants to just let go, give in, grab onto Alex and not let him go for the next three days. Lose himself to the feel of it, the... the fantasy of it, really. Pretend like this could be real, something they could do outside of these stolen pockets of time.

But he looks down and sees that goddamn Air Force shirt. Steps back. “Take it off,” he practically growls, reaching out to grip the lower hem of the shirt.

Alex’s eyes widen. “Yeah. Okay.”

Michael lets go of the shirt, watches as Alex pulls it off smoothly, up and over his head. “Better?”

Michael bobs his head. “Everything off.”

He watches Alex’s throat as he swallows. Toes off his shoes, his socks. Unbuckles his belt and lets his jeans drop. A brief pause, and then he’s lowering his boxer briefs. 

“Your turn,” Alex breathes. “Take it all off.” He eyes Michael. “Cowboy.”

“Aye, aye, soldier.”

Alex’s brow furrows a bit, and he clears his throat. “It’s airman, but... but not right now, okay? Not here with you.” He stares at Michael. “And once you get those clothes off, you’re not, not a cowboy. It’ll be just, just...”

“Just us,” Michael finishes for him, seeming to understand. “Alex and Michael.”

Alex lowers his head, reaches a hand out to grasp Michael low on his hip, over his belt. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Michael takes off the hat first. Looks at Alex after, holds his gaze as he pulls away and purposefully puts the hat into a drawer. Belt’s next, and he takes his time coiling it up, placing it neatly next to the hat and hiding both items away. He knows he’s teasing Alex, taking too long, but Alex is allowing it, breathing steadily and watching Michael with a dark intensity. Michael settles himself heavily on the bed and pulls off one boot, then another. Alex smiles a little as Michael realizes that all his Western wear is gone, all the symbols of how far his life has diverged from its originally-intended path.

Had things been different, would he be unzipping a UNM hoodie right now, taking off a ball cap? Or would... would they be together on this, a Friday night, at some college bar? Would he be smiling up at Alex at some open mic night?

Michael shakes the thoughts from his mind. Because, because he’s here. Now. With Alex. And that... that has to be enough.

He stands up, tall as he can. Meets Alex’s eyes as he pulls his shirt off in one swift motion. He removes his jeans and boxers together, all at once, and then it’s done. They’re both naked. Ready. 

It’s just them.

And then Alex is crossing the room, hands on Michael, and god, he’s missed this. It’s everything, really, the smell of him, the taste of him. Michael groans, low in his throat, and Alex leans in further, pressing for even more contact. Michael gladly gives it to him, running his hands up and down the smooth skin of Alex’s back, pulling him in close.

Alex’s hands are in his hair now, pulling just a little. Not breaking their kiss, Michael brings one palm down and around to the front of Alex’s body. Closes his fingers over Alex’s dick and smiles as Alex jerks back a bit, gasps.

Michael grins. “You feel good,” he mutters, stroking him. He buries his face in Alex’s neck as he does it, and his lips find an earlobe, close over it lightly. “Shit, Manes,” he says, pulling off briefly. “You’re still pierced.” He sucks harder for emphasis, uses his teeth, just a little. “I can feel it.”

“They, they can’t take everything from me, you know?” Alex says, voice unsteady.

Michael releases Alex, stands back just enough to give himself space to drop to his knees. He hears Alex’s sharp intake of breath, feels his hand gripping his curls. He looks straight up at Alex, meets his eyes.

“They sure as hell can’t,” he says firmly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come say hello on tumblr (aewriting).


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